


Almost Heaven

by witchyvinci



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Background Relationships, Background Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison/Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Fluff, Implied Death, Implied Relationships, Kinda, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, Soft!Hanzo, Young Jesse McCree/Hanzo Shimada, also no beards, hanzo is an emotional softy, kind of beta?, mccree can play guitar, mccree works at a theater, soft!mccree, theyre like 20
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-10-29 13:59:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10855443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchyvinci/pseuds/witchyvinci
Summary: Jesse McCree is a part time employee at the Anubis Theater and finds an emotionally distraught Hanzo Shimada crying in the back of the room and offers him dinner and a place to sleep.McCree sings and cuddles ensue.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you guys think! If this goes well updates should come weekly! 
> 
> (Partially inspired by a prompt by tumblr user adhdnoravalkyrie whose blog has since been deleted, if you know their new blog please comment and i'll give proper credit! song use inspired by this post https://murieren.tumblr.com/post/160007475278/mccree-singing-take-me-home-country-roads-and // song link here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1vrEljMfXYo ) 
> 
> Thank you!!

The theater had quieted, the weight of night falling over the building, lulling those inside into a tired hush. The only sounds came from the nearest viewing room, the newest action-thriller blaring through the building; distant explosions and screams filling the air.

Jesse McCree stood behind the counter, his lanky body hunched against the warm popcorn machine, while his eyes burned into his watch. Still five minutes to go. He ran a hand through his tangled brown hair, the seconds ticking excruciating by, each one seemingly longer than the last. In a few minutes the doors would bust open, and the crowd would pour out faster than white waters. Couples leaning into each other arms hooked together, friends giggling about the cutest lead actor, and the few that loudly and obnoxiously discussed the movie’s flaws--he had seen it all.

It had become a ritual for the young adult, waiting for the new crowds to file in on the half hour, eager to see whatever blockbuster was blowing up charts nationwide. Two hours later, the same crowd would emerge from the room, and the cycle would begin again.

The theater itself was small, run locally by a family passed through generations. The mother--Ana--was an old friend of McCree’s and had practically raised him alongside her daughter, Fareeha. Ana was stern, strict sometimes, but behind the counter when no customers were in sight, she had the loveliest laugh. Her eyes would crinkle, and her hands would clap onto her knees as Jesse egged her on, milking whatever joke he had just told her. She was like a mother to him, and loved him dearly.

The second hand clicked loudly as the watch rounded past 9:30, the show just about coming to a close. His eyes snapped up as the door creaked open, and a modest crowd of people flooded out There was a group of three girls, giggling and gossiping in hushed whispers, and for a second their eyes darted quickly to meet his before erupting once more in quiet laughter. McCree smiled softly, his cheeks turning to a shade of light pink. He was used to the attention as he was hit on practically every night, but there was something about being in the spotlight that always managed to make him blush.

Generally, he was ignored as an employee, cast aside as if he were nothing but a shadow. He didn’t mind, of course, and always managed to smile even if a customer was screaming at him, spit hitting his cheek. He nodded at the passing crowd, bidding those who bothered to look over a quick ‘good-night’. On Friday nights the theater was open to ten, the latest night of the week, and he had begrudgingly picked up the shift from Fareeha, who had made plans with her girlfriend and promised to “take whatever shift you need, just jesus McCree, please?”. Naturally, he found himself reluctantly agreeing. He didn’t necessarily hate late shifts, in fact he adored them. The dim, warm glow of the hanging chandelier, the soft glimmer of moonlight just barely visible on the spinning glass doors. There was a silence which ensued, the air free from the screaming of children and the cries of babes. If he craned his neck to view the outside through the front doors, he could just make out the distant glimmer of stars, glistening beneath the moon. He loved watching the late-night couples trail in, arms wrapped around one another wearing only sweaters and pajamas, their tired eyes filled with adoration and love.

Glancing back at his watch, he decided to wait a few more moments, allowing those who bothered to stay for the end credits, and those who were wrapping up any make-out sessions, to leave the screening room. As the minutes passed, a small handful of people filtered out, leaving the theater quietly. He glanced around the building quickly, scanning for anyone hoping to buy a late ticket, before grabbing his cleaning cart and heading on inside the abandoned room. Cleaning wasn’t terribly bad, and it gave him time to think to himself, muttering a few thoughts out loud. Usually there was nothing more than the odd popcorn spill, a few drinks left around half full, and 3D glasses littering almost every aisle.

As he wheeled the cart inside the darkened room, beginning his nightly ritual, a sound emerged from the last row. McCree squinted his eyes, attempting to see any visible silhouettes against the shadows.

“Hello? Don’ mean to bother but this theater’s closed, ‘m afraid.” He called out against the darkness. There was a movement from the back, as a figure stumbled to stand up, falling back into the seat instantly. Jesse moved closer, heading up the stairs towards it.

“Oh,” a small voice replied, “you must be here to clean the theater. My apologies, I must have fallen asleep, how silly of me.” There was a quiet sniffle as the figure hastily stood from it’s seat, attempting to avoid the confrontation. McCree doubled his pace, allowing his long legs to take the lighted stairs two at at time.

“Now hold on!” He called out, desperate to approach. Another sniffle, louder this time followed by a hushed sob. “I jus’ wanna talk.” The figure stopped, turned in it’s place. As he reached the figure he could easily see the man before him. He wasn’t much shorter than McCree, standing a few inches less at his full height. Strands of long black hair fell over his face which was red and puffy around his eyes and nose. His honey-coloured eyes looked away instantly as Jesse stared at him, wiping furiously at a stray tear creeping down his cheek.

“I have to leave,” the man said in a distant voice. He turned his body to leave, attempting to flee the situation unfolding before him.

Instinctively, McCree’s hand flew out to grab the man’s wrist, delicately bringing him back to face him. The man’s eyes burned into McCree’s, angry at first, his eyebrows forming a ‘v’ down his forehead, his wrist tensing in Jesse’s hold, gradually relaxing. His eyes turned down and quickly began to tear. Desperately, he began to blink down hard in a hasty attempt to hold back his crying.

“Hey, hey darlin’ what’s wrong?” McCree bent his knees, reaching eye contact with the man. He put his hands on his shoulders, their eyes locking. The brunet cleared his throat, and he pulled down two chairs for them to sit in.

“It is foolish,” he sat down beside McCree, tying the stray strands of hair back into the bun at the back of his head, the ponytail hanging low and covering his ears. “My brother and I...as children we often came here. Now, we never speak. Genji--he hates me. I would do anything to be a child beside him once more.”

A second passed, a heartbeat. The man turned to face Jesse, his eyes soulful and tear-filled, his jaw clenching and unclenching to keep himself from sobbing. His forehead creased in anguish, his pain creeping over his expressions. A tear glistened down his cheek, leaving a slug-like trail in it’s wake and the man’s lips parted to release a soft cry, almost silent.

“That’s not foolish sugar, that’s terrible. ‘M real sorry to hear that, is there anythin’ I can do for ya?”

The man let out a stifled laugh. “No, but I thank you for your efforts.” They sat there for a moment in silence, the words running through their minds, echoing in the empty theater. McCree examined the boy beside him, a few strands of hair already springing from their captive hair-tie. He had elegant facial features, long eyelashes shadowing over those gentle honey eyes. His nose was long and broken just at the bridge, he must’ve had his share of fights. McCree’s eyes trailed down his face, resting at the man’s trembling lips. They were soft and wet, his tears still drying on them. Jesse looked at him in wonder, taking in his features with widened eyes. He was, without a doubt, the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

Jesse leaned forward, placing himself in the view of the man. “There mus’ be somethin’ I can do.” He flashed him a warm smile, his mind running with how to help the grieving man. He avoided eye contact with McCree, his eyes falling down to his thighs. “Can I buy ya dinner? A drink, anythin’ like that?”

His eyes trailed up, meeting Jesse’s in a moment of consideration. He smiled softly, his lips shut tightly. “I would like that.”

“‘M happy to hear that, darlin’. My name’s Jesse McCree, what’s yours?”

“Hanzo Shimada,”

“Well Hanzo, I gotta clean this place up but I reckon ya can stay here with me, if ya want. I won’t be too long,” Hanzo nodded slowly, his eyes seemingly distant. There was a presence about him, cold and isolated. He rubbed once more at his eyes, taking in a long shaky breath as McCree stood up beside him. He began to walk away from the man when a hand promptly grasped his own. Jesse turned to look at the man, now staring up at him, his pupils large and dark. McCree was transfixed, the look in Hanzo’s eyes creating flutters in his heart.

“Thank you, Jesse,”

McCree only nodded, struggling to find his breath.

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo looked up at the man, now blushing from the touch and grimaced. He hated this, the weakness he was demonstrating. _Like a child_ , he thought. Vulnerable and helpless, the tears gushing down like lava on his skin. He despised it. To be discovered was worse, but how could he say no? This stranger looked at him with such a kindness, and purity that Hanzo found himself drawn to him. His warm chocolate eyes, burning into Hanzo’s with a sense of trust and ease.

Slowly, he retracted his hand from McCree’s, his eyes darting away as he allowed the man to go back to his work time routine. As Jesse walked down the stairs, back to where he had left his cart he glanced back up at Hanzo, who had been watching him with hawk-like concentration. Every week or so, Hanzo visited the theater to see the latest show of the night. He desperately needed the distraction, ever since his brother had left. The screaming still echoing in his ears, loud and heated, unable to focus on anything besides that night. It was frozen in time; the moment his brother whom he had once held in his arms, and giggled beside as children, slammed the door behind him as he left his brother’s life. As boys, the theater was an escape. A sanctuary for them to run to when their family life turned to violent shouts and vicious threats. They would hold up in the back, a fort for themselves, aweing at the newest actions films with heroes built like gods.

“You’re like them,” Genji had whispered once into his brother’s ear, pointing at a group of men with chiseled jaw lines and fearlessness painted in their eyes. Hanzo had looked at his brother then, a picture of youth--grinning wider than he had in years, his messy green hair just falling over his bright eyes. Hanzo had looked down at him, puzzled and confused, but smiling nonetheless. He had never forgotten those words, and strived to make them feel true, but somehow they never seemed to fit.

Fire dripped down his cheek. _Enough_ , he commanded himself, wiping his arm over his face. He sniffed again, drawing the attention of the young man below. Hanzo quieted himself, feeling his eyes dry over, crusty and hard. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut allowing himself to be concealed by blackness. He slowed his breathing, evening it out until it was back to its regular pace. _One...two...three_. He opened his eyes, the lights around the theater slowly brightening. He watched McCree go along the aisles, his brown curls falling over his eyes as he picked up various pieces of garbage laying around. The man smiled up at him, sensing the hot gaze on his back.

Hanzo stood up, his feet soundless against the carpeted floor. He made his way to the front of the room, walking down the stairs to the first row settling down in a chair along the aisle, the large synthetic screen only inches from his face. He turned his body to face the stranger so effortlessly kind to him. His skin was olive and hinted at Hispanic genes, his face was sharp in places, a few scars along his cheeks, but his eyes seemed to soften it all and created a sense of light around him. He chewed quietly on a toothpick, the end of it just brushing over his stubbly beard. There was ruggedness about him, almost rustic in age.

“Y’alright?” Jesse asked, looking back at him. He held a broom in his hand and shifted his weight to lean on it. “Your uh, starin’s makin’ me blush.” Hanzo flushed, heat spreading throughout his face as he quickly looked away from the man.

“I..apologize,”

Jesse laughed, a beautiful sound, clear and melodic. “Oh don’t, ‘m just jokin with ya. I don’t mind ya staring’, it’s been awhile since anyone looked at me like that.” Hanzo swallowed, his heart practically skipping a beat as the man took a step towards him. McCree gave him a crooked smile, showing off a small dimple. “Anyway, ‘m pretty much done for the night, ya wanna head out?”

Hanzo nodded warily, his heart racing in his chest as Jesse offered his hand to help him up. He took it gently, allowing himself to be raised from his seat. He felt his body lift quickly, weighing nothing in the man’s arms.

He glanced up, only inches away from Jesse’s face. His eyes lingered on his lips, soft and parted ever-so-slightly. He found himself unable to release McCree’s hand, and felt his own face rapidly redden.

“Shucks,” McCree whispered, the sound barely audible. Hanzo could feel their chests touching, warm and welcoming. A light graze of pink tickled over Jesse’s face, the colour revealing a handful of freckles scattered over his cheeks and nose.

There was a crash suddenly, loud and booming through the theater as the doors were pushed open with abrupt force. Hushed giggling and whispers echoed through the room, and in a second McCree and Hanzo found themselves standing feet apart.

Two girls rushed into the room, their hands rubbing over each other. One was significantly taller than the other, dark hair collected in golden ties, highlighting the brown of her skin. She held the other woman close to her, hands running through her bright blonde hair. They bumped against the wall, the blonde kissing down her companion’s neck, sending moans through her body. As she lowered herself, the other woman’s eyes widened at the sight of the two men watching her, and she instantly pulled away from the blonde.

“Jesse! I thought you had gone home!”

McCree looked at her, eyebrows raised while surprise danced in his eyes. “No I uh, was just cleanin’, Far. What’re you doin’ here?” Hanzo watched the situation unfold, the blonde quickly flattening herself against the wall. He recognized the taller one, had seen her multiple times when he had come to buy a ticket. She always seemed distant and cold, her mind in a million other worlds, he admired th at,

“Nothing, Angela just wanted to see the place. I thought I could give her a small tour. Do you mind?” She stood at her full height, levelled with McCree. He shrugged and quickly grabbed the broom beside him, and ushered Hanzo to follow.

After exiting the theater, Hanzo could immediately hear muted moans and quiet giggles. He watched his feet while he walked, trying to put the closeness of McCree’s body from his mind. As they moved, their arms brushed against each other, Hanzo’s shoulder occasionally bumping against Jesse’s bicep. He wasn’t much taller than Hanzo, but definitely had a few inches on him. Yet, when he walked he slouched his body, creating a lanky appearance.

Beside him, he could hear Jesse clear his throat. “I’m uh, sorry ‘bout that. Fareeha can be,” he chuckled, “real persistent.”

“I see.” Silence fell between them, a curtain blanketing their thoughts. There were so many questions Hanzo wanted to ask, so many things he had wondered about the man: where did you come from? Why are you here? How do your eyes seem to shine brighter than the stars? He sighed, frustration bottling up in his chest, screaming to be released. He wanted to listen to the man, wanted to hear his soft voice for hours. His mind raced with a million things to say at once, trying to settle. “How do you know her?”

“Fareeha? Hell, I’ve known her longer than I care t’share. Her mum sorta adopted me, took away all the troubles in my life. I owe them everythin’.” He smiled down at Hanzo for a second, squinting his eyes a little as he tried to read Hanzo’s face before turning away in defeat. “What’re ya feelin’?”

“Excuse me?”

“For dinner,” another smile, dimples in full bloom. “If ya don’ mind, I know a wonderful Italian place.”

Hanzo nodded, his eyes trailing up the body of the man before him. The dark blue uniform was much too big for muscular build, and seemed to hang over his body, outlining his torso. A matching baseball cap sat on top of his shaggy brown hair, and the cuffs of his pants were rolled just over his black sneakers. He looked like a hot mess, covered in old butter stains and soda spills. Yet, there was no one who had ever smiled at Hanzo like that before, no one who would bother to feed him if they found him teary-eyed and messy in the back of a theater.

He watched McCree lean across the counter, grabbing a large red serape from a shelf, draping it over himself with practiced ease. He bent down behind the counter, reaching for something and when he re-appeared his face had lit up and his uniform baseball-hat had been replaced with an old tattered cowboy hat. Beaming, he tipped the hat down at his companion who fought a short giggle.

Hanzo grinned up at him, “I think I would like that very much, Jesse.”

 

* * *

 

 

McCree looked down at the man, now grinning up at him with the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. It seemed to occupy his entire face, his teeth blinding white and perfect. His eyebrows lifted and his eyes seemed to glisten up at Jesse. On the bridge of his nose sat a silver piercing, a simple ball glimmering in the light. _God he’s cute_.

He swung over the counter in a flurry, landing directly in front of Hanzo with a sudden crash. “Good t’hear you’re not leavin’ me just yet.” The cowboy smiled down at him, causing a splash of pink to kiss Hanzo’s cheeks for only a second. McCree laughed at the sight, the blush so confusing to the raven-haired beauty. He furrowed his eyebrows at the feeling of the sudden heat and instantly turned from Jesse, causing him to laugh all the more. His laugh wasn’t quiet or sweet, it was loud and full, filling the air around them. Hanzo found himself unable to resist smiling at the sound, chuckling softly along.

“Aw now you’re jus’ makin’ fun of me,” he pursued his lips, faking a pout, peeking down at Hanzo to watch his expression. His lips closed and tightened, his eyebrows lowering down to cast over his dark eyes.

“I would never,” he murmured, gravity burning his words.

Jesse stopped walking for a second, the suddenness causing Hanzo to bump into his body releasing a quiet ‘oof’ from the smaller man. “Jeez Hanzo, I was only jokin’ with ya. Somethin’ must be really bothering’ ya.”

He was quiet for a moment, letting the comment filter through his body. Jesse watched him growing interest as he fumbled for the key in his left pocket. Hanzo opened his mouth to speak, his eyes darting back and forth as if deciding whether or not to say anything at all before simply muttering, “I suppose.”

McCree wrinkled his brows together, frowning slightly. There was a darkness behind Hanzo’s eyes which made it seem as if the weight of the world was crushing down on his shoulders. His mind seemingly in a million places at once. Jesse placed a hand on his shoulder, startling Hanzo, his eyes darting up to meet his, wide and anxious. McCree cooed, “hey it’s okay, do ya wanna talk about it?” His eyes burned into Hanzo’s, crouching slightly to be level with him. Hanzo shook his head, warily, slowly. McCree nodded, stepping away from him and unlocking the spinning glass door.

He held it open for Hanzo, the cold air suddenly piercing their skin. Hanzo was more bundled than McCree, dressed in a tight-fitting utility jacket and a pair of black joggers, rolled up over his boots. He murmured a thanks, and followed him outside. It was a clear night, the moon bright against the pitch black sky. The air was filled with a rich cacophony of crickets and chimes, the stars faint and luminescent.

McCree looked down at his companion, the moonlight reflecting in his eyes. He really was beautiful, elegant in the simplest ways. He held himself tall, his posture perfect.

“Hanzo, I reckon ya look prettier than the first day of spring.”

“Thank you,” They continued walking, their movements in perfect synchronization. Jesse looked around the dark, the streetlights illuminating the sidewalk in a warm glow. He felt a soft tug at his hand and looked down to see Hanzo’s entangled with his. “I wanted to thank you again, for the kindness you have shown me,” he whispered, his thumb running over the back of Jesse’s hand. “There are few who would do this for a stranger, and I am in your debt.”

A flutter spread through McCree’s heart and he gave Hanzo’s hand a light squeeze. “I’ve never been one for debts darlin’, how ‘bout ya tell me what’s on your mind and we’ll call it even?”

Hanzo remained silent, discomfort clogging his mind. Receiving the message, Jesse stopped talking and they continued in silence the comfort of the night air surrounding them like a blanket. Jesse adjusted his serape, the soft wool warm against his skin. These days, the serape was the only thing he had from home, after his mother had made it for him when he was very young. Usually he never missed it, but there were days when the sun was just right and the wind blew a tepid breeze when he was reminded of those hot Santa Fe days, and his heart yearned for careless days on the ranch. .

The restaurant was a few blocks down the road, just beyond the park. It was Jesse’s favourite first-date dubbed diner, decorated with checkered table-cloths and candelabra's at every table. In the distance, the glimmering lights of the sign peered through the trees along the way. A smile burst over McCree’s face, his step quickening, hurrying Hanzo along with him.

They approached the diner, the low watt light bulbs illuminating the sign reading ‘the Corner’ in cursive red lettering.

“This is it,” McCree said, gesturing at the building. It was made of red brick, ivy climbing up the side like a cobweb. An iron fence surrounded it, entangled with white fairy lights, encompassing the outdoor eating area, each table covered with a white umbrella.

He walked to the entrance, holding the door open for his companion, taking in the restaurant with a sense of awe, raising the corners of his mouth.

“It’s...wonderful,”

“Jesse!” A man greeted him as he walked through the door, McCree nodded at him, embracing him in a quick hug. He was young, younger than McCree and had long dreadlocks kept back in a thick hair tie. “Welcome back bro, can I grab you guys a seat?”

“Thanks Lucio,” he smiled as the waiter directed to them to a small booth, seated in the window. He wore a pair of skates to help him navigate the restaurant with ease, grabbing them a menu as they sat down.

Jesse watched intently as Hanzo’s eyes gazed over his surroundings, his mouth gaped open in sudden awe. The diner was lit in a dim glow, exposed lightbulbs lining the exposed brick walls. The booths were lined with red velvet, the dark of night flooding through the windows, the moon just barely visible.

Hanzo glanced back at him, catching his gaze. Most people would have turned, embarrassment flooding their body in a sudden heat, but Jesse only kept staring unable to turn from the man before him.

“Jesse I--”

“Sugar, about whatever’s on your mind, I don’t need to know, honest. I was just jokin’ with ya.”

Hanzo gave him a wry smile, jerking up one side of his mouth quickly. “No, I want to tell someone.” He met his eyes. “I want to tell you.”

 

 

* * *

 

He watched the brunet’s eyes widen in surprise, his eyebrows lifting before quickly releasing his visible emotions, and resumed a serious expression. Hanzo wanted to laugh, giggle like a schoolgirl and reach for his hand only inches from his. _Control yourself_.

He took in a short breath, sighing before placing himself back in the memory of that haunted night. “He was late getting home, he usually was this failed to shock me. This night however, was darker than most. A fog had settled, and he had not yet texted him his location. I have to start from the beginning. You must understand, in Japan our father was a very powerful man. Our family was strong, and we were in control of many businesses. My whole life, I had been groomed to fill my father’s position, so that when he may die I would take the lead. But Genji...he cared not for politics and pampered play. He acted out, carelessly--foolishly. I told him to stop, pleaded with him that our father would not care for it. When we moved to America we were only children, but things had already changed. The cheek my father had so often turned to Genji had broken, and suddenly he refused to stay idle. He began to yell at him, hit him. There was nothing I could do, I was a boy. After our father died...I had to resume his position as I had been trained, and Genji refused to help. I was frustrated with him, with the business, with the funeral arrangements. He was all I had, and he denied me. A few weeks ago, he began to disappear at night off to clubs and bars, acting like a child. He always texted me. Except this once. I stayed up waiting for him to walk through our doors, or to hear the chime of a text. Nothing! He finally came home around five in the morning and we started arguing, louder than we ever had before. We screamed until our throats ached, and I…” a sob escaped from his throat and he cursed himself as the familiar burns of tears spread down his cheek, quick and hot. The more he tried to wipe them the more they came until his face was in his hands, and his back was heaving.

“Hanzo, look at me,” He slowly complied, his lips wet and his eyes red. Water dripped from his nose, and tears dripped down from his chin. McCree leaned forward, taking hold of one of Hanzo’s trembling hands, rubbing them softly. “No matter what ya did, I forgive ya. Trust me,”

He nodded, his lips quivering as he struggled to find his words. "I hit him,” his voice was quieter, ashamed. “I never meant to, it was so sudden. I watched for years as our father screamed and abused him, and I am no better. When he looked at me, what little love he had for me had vanished. His eyes burned hate into mine, and he left the house in absolute silence. I haven’t seen him since. I keep finding myself alone in your theater, hoping, waiting for him to appear beside me.” His chin quivered and his jaw tightened, trying to stop himself from the oncoming tears once more. The sobs began to hurt his throat, his chest stiff. McCree’s hand tightened over his. He reached his other hand over, trying to wipe the tears off of Hanzo’s face, shushing him quietly.

“Hey now, it’s not your fault. Ya didn’t mean to, right? He’s your brother, he’ll come back, okay? He’ll come back, Hanzo.” His face was wet and puffy, his eyes dried out from the flow, his throat arid. He nodded quickly, trying to even himself out, flushed by the scene he had caused.

“My apologies, I...am behaving like a boy,”

“Hanzo, jeez, it’s okay y’know. This stuff happens, cryin’ doesn’t make ya any less of a man. Your brother left ya, I’d be right worried if ya didn’t cry ‘bout it.” The familiar sound of skates quickly approached and Hanzo retracted his hands from Jesse, placing them on his lap, looking up to see if Lucio had seen anything. McCree looked at him, eyebrows creased.

“Hey you guys ready to order?”

Hanzo didn’t ask for much, only a glass of water and a few pieces of garlic toast. McCree watched him, confusion crossing his eyes and mind. Spaghetti stained the man’s face and seemed oblivious to the orange sauce brimming his lips. They sat in silence, eating their dinner with uninterrupted concentration. A light Italian tune played through the restaurant, a woman reaching high vocals with ease and perfection, lulling those inside into a pleasant calm.

As the water touched Hanzo’s chapped lips, his mind wandered. He watched Jesse’s eyes look down to his food, pushing a meatball around his empty bowl, his head leaning into his hand. He hadn’t meant to hurt him, the pull was out of habit. He wasn’t used to the touch of others, comforting him in times of pain and loneliness. He was used to isolation, battling through his pain through training and skill.

Jesse lazily raised the last meatball to his mouth, engulfing the whole thing in a single bite. A wry smile crossed Hanzo's lips and he slowly slipped his foot out of a boot, rubbing it gently over his companion’s leg. McCree’s eyes suddenly shot open wide, choking on the meatball now lodged in his throat. He punched his chest trying to clear his throat, coughing and laughing all the while, while Hanzo sat frozen in his chair eyes practically bugging from his skull.

McCree swallowed hard, the remaining meatball falling down his throat, burning while it did. He let out a chuckle, shaking his head still releasing small coughs as he collected his breath. “Darlin’, you can’t go startlin’ a man like that.”  
“I’m sorry--I did not mean to--”

“I didn’t say stop,”

 

* * *

 

When they finally left the diner, the clock had well passed midnight. Lucio had allowed them to stay a few minutes passed closing, and they walked back through the cold air to where McCree had left his car. It was a rusty old pick-up, collecting dust in the front of the theater. It had once been bright red, shinier than the moon, but had since turned to an old shade of rustic orange. He opened the door for Hanzo, helping him over the tall step into the passenger side, before taking his seat behind the wheel. It started up with a bang, Hanzo’s heart scared into a rapid beating, before the engine began to purr.

“Where d’ya live, Hanzo?”

“On the south side, you can drop me off at the bus station.”

“The south side? Sugar, that’s an hour away why don’t ya come stay with me for the night, I live a few blocks away.” He looked over to the raven-haired man, hair disheveled and face red from the cold. His eyes darted back and forth, uncertain and panicked. Jesse grinned. “Relax, I’m not askin’ for your hand in marriage. I have a guest bedroom that I rarely ever use, may as well give it some use, huh? I can drive ya back in the mornin’ if you’d like.” He watched as Hanzo opened his mouth to object, his heavy eyelashes fluttering in a short panic. “Hey, just for a night’s rest I promise, I wouldn’t ask ya to do anythin’ your not comfortable with.” Hanzo beamed up at him, the moonlight in his eyes, a silver glow over his cheekbones. His hair had fallen out of it’s tie at some point and hung over the side of his face, brushed back behind his ear, revealing a glimmering piercing of a dragon swirling down his helix.

McCree found himself drawn to the piercing, every inch of it enchantingly beautiful, haunting in it’s own way. The tail started at the base of the ear, the tip a perfect triangle preceded by a long set of uneven, jagged scales coursing up the length of the tail. The spine was rigid and bent like a cat startled in the dark. The head came to the front of the ear, snarling and violent, the jowls raised to reveal long and sharp teeth. The eye looked out, a bright blue stone amongst the dark silver body.

Catching Jesse’s gaze, Hanzo quickly let his hair fall back over it like a curtain. Jesse’s eyes turned back to the road, a familiar feeling of anxiety churning in his gut from causing discomfort to the other man.

The road before them was long and dark, the few streetlights placed parallel only giving a dim glow against the black sky. The headlights of the truck burned into the street, illuminating three feet in front of them at all times. The houses lined along the sidewalk were similar in style, all old brick houses with dusty chimney stacks and white picket fences bordering their walls.

“I’m sorry Han, I wasn’t tryin’ to bother you. Or pressure you,” He peeked over at the man, eyes solemn and dismal, he wondered if he was thinking of his brother.

Hanzo turned to face him, “Please, you have done nothing to offend me. You have offered me bedding and given me food, I wish I could offer you something in return.”  
A laugh bubbled up inside of Jesse, relief flushing through his body. He knew he could stare sometimes, his gaze uneasy and at times, intimidating. “I wouldn’t take anythin’ anyway. I just wanna help ya, is all.”

The truck turned to a smaller dead end street, just off of the main road where a small building sat, hidden from view by a line of sky-high evergreens. It was short in stature, with only a dozen or so windows peering out from the mahogany coloured brick. A french door sat in middle, surrounded by collapsing columns and browning hedges. McCree parked the car along the side of the road, turning off the engine with a sudden thrust of his arm, a moan creeping from his lips.

“This is it, it ain’t much but the rent’s cheap and the trees can be comfort enough.”

“It is...beautiful.” Awe and amazement crept in the back of Hanzo’s voice. Jesse smiled at him, watching Hanzo’s eyes climb up the building, moonlight in his hair.

“Wanna see the inside?”

Hanzo looked at him, feverishly holding back the blush threatening to rise. “Lead the way, cowboy.”

 

* * *

 

Hanzo followed McCree blindly through the pitch black halls of the complex, holding onto Jesse’s offered hand with a tight grip. His other hand felt along the wall running parallel beside him. They had gone up a few flights of stairs, and he kept his hand against the wall to feel for any more oncoming railings. The wallpaper was peeling, and in patches he could feel bare wood bleeding through. A splinter pierced his skin and he inhaled sharply as they came to a stop.

“Here we are, sorry ‘bout the mess I wasn’t expectin’ any company.” Light filled Hanzo’s vision, blinding him for a blink of a second. He walked into the apartment, and heard the door shut behind him. The apartment wasn’t messy but more so comfortable. He quickly untied his boots and began to glance around his surroundings. A small kitchen sat to his right, bordered with wrap-around counter and a few bar stools. In front of him was a plush brown couch with a few miniscule tears, covered with an old flannel blanket and flat pillow. The couch faced a T.V with a few discs discarded in a pile on the floor. Old westerns: _High Noon, the Good the Bad and the Ugly, True Grit_ , and a few other titles Hanzo didn’t recognize. The moon reflected into the room from a large window directly across from the door facing the other side of the complex, the curtains wide open revealing a view of large forest encircling the back of the building.

“You hungry at all, thirsty maybe?” The sound of a refrigerator opening came from his right, McCree peering into the fridge light.

Hanzo’s eyes flicked to a case sitting beside the window, a thin layer of dust painting it in a light gray. Noting Hanzo’s silence, the brunet followed his gaze, eyes widening at the discovered case. He looked away, embarrassment flickering over his eyes. “Oh that,” his words were heavy in the quiet air.

“Do you play?” Hanzo took a step towards it, stepping onto a large woven oval rug, soft beneath his socked feet.

Holding a light beer, McCree took a seat on the couch as he watched Hanzo approach the guitar. “I used to but...I don’ know. The whole thing makes me think of home.”

Hanzo looked back at him, eyes painted down. His brown curls hung over his face, his hat and serape sitting beside him in a lump. He touched the beer to his lips.

“You miss it,” he whispered, foolishness crossing through his mind. A man had willingly invited him into his home, and Hanzo had barged in suddenly questioning every aspect of his life. Invading his personal business. “I’m sorry.”

McCree eyes jumped back up, sensing the wavering in Hanzo’s voice. “Oh darlin’ don’t be. I miss it, yeah, but jeez ya must miss your home somethin’ fierce.” Hanzo nodded gently. He had left Japan at a very young interest, Genji in tow behind him and their father. Their _Sukiya-zukuri_ style house had towered over their garden of Japanese maples and cherry blossom trees, their buds in a vibrant rose bloom. As boys between their training, the Shimada brothers would run and play, hiding behind the trunks of the largest trees until their father called them inside. A pang of pain ran through Hanzo and he stiffened in place.

“There are times I find myself reminiscing."

The sound of McCree tapping his nails against the bottle filled the air, and Hanzo found himself glancing back towards the guitar. As a child, he had been taught how to play the koto at a beginner’s level, his fingers light and nimble enough to navigate the strings with ease, when all the while they had only been preparing him for the strings of another instrument.

A coy laugh bubbled up suddenly from the belly of Jesse and Hanzo quickly turned to face him. “This is silly, pass me it will ya, sug?” Hanzo’s feet were quick and light, reaching for the guitar and passing it back to McCree in a second. Jesse placed it down on the coffee table between the T.V and the couch, fingers fumbling for the latch. As it unclicked, a cloud of dust whipped off the case revealing a the shining guitar beneath. It was a dark amber, the pick lying on top a plain piece of black. McCree caught Hanzo’s line of gaze and flashed him a wry smile, sending a heat to Hanzo’s groin. “Wanna hear me play?” Like a schoolgirl, he found himself speechless and only nodded as he watched the brunet place the guitar over his knee, the curves locking into McCree’s body perfectly. His hands hesitated over the strings for only a second before a familiar old country tune filled the air. His hands danced along the chords, his foot keeping a beat.

“ _Almost heaven, West Virginia_ …” His voice was rich and warm, and Hanzo sat down beside him, hypnotized by the sound. Jesse looked over, unable to keep from smiling, the chords melting his heart and rocking his body into a gentle sway. “ _Country roads, take me home. To the place, I belong_.” Hanzo pulled his legs up to his body, leaning over until his head nestled onto McCree’s shoulder, closing his eyes. His shoulder was soft and the curve of his neck seemed to fit Hanzo’s head perfectly. Upon the abrupt weight, McCree fumbled over a chord before quickly recovering, his heart sent soaring. He quieted his voice singing until he fell asleep, leaning into the tired weight of the man, their bodies nestled around the guitar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His mind is plagued with song lyrics and warm eyes.

Hanzo awoke drunk from sleep. Soft sunlight peered in through the window, piercing his eyes. He slowly sat up, his neck stiff and pained. He felt a warmth around his body, and looked down to see that the crimson serape now hugged his frame. He turned to his left, looking at the man curled up against the side of the couch, his hand resting on the guitar discarded on the floor. McCree’s hair was disheveled and his clothes were crooked. His feet were curled against Hanzo, dressed in bright red socks with moth-bitten holes at the heels.

He smiled, placing the serape over McCree’s sleeping body as he stood from the couch. The microwave clock screamed 9:08 in bright neon numbering and a sudden panic weaved through Hanzo. He was late. Anxious, he reached for a pen sitting on the counter, searching desperately for a spare piece of paper but to no avail. He rushed back over to McCree--snoring softly as he slept--and quickly scribbled on his hand before slipping into his shoes and creeping out the door. He made a habit to never be late if he could help it, and crept out of the building without making another sound, years of sneaking around paying off.

Glancing around, he scouted for the nearest bus stop, his heart now racing at a thousand miles per hour. He couldn’t think, his thoughts a jumble in his head. He needed to stop, breathe and examine the situation.

The apartment complex was the only building on the street, the road surrounded by trees in varying size and colour. The leaves on some already turning to a burnt crimson. The road was a light gray filled with pot holes on either side, the asphalt in dire need of construction.

He squinted against the bright sunlight, and noticed a glimpse of a blue-tipped sign. A bus stop, sitting on the corner of the main road. He ran for it, his body still limp from his long rest. His legs were moving faster than his mind, and he reached it just as the bus came into view, fumbling for the fare left in his pocket.

The bus driver nodded at him as he boarded, oblivious to his pasta stained clothes, stuck to his body from the sweat of night and his messy black hair now sticking up at all angles. Instead, his eyes went straight back to the road, starting the bus before Hanzo had had a second to find a seat among the morning work crowd. Using the poles along the bus to keep him upright, he sat in a seat by the window at the back, popping headphones into his ear and placed his head against the stained window. As the bus chugged forward, navigating along the hole-filled road, Hanzo’s temple slammed against the glass though he paid no mind.

In that moment, he thought of everything and nothing. He thought of the look in his brother’s eyes, watering and wide, a mixture of shock, fear, and betrayal pouring into them by the second. He thought of the fury he had felt in that moment, his hand frozen above Genji’s screaming face in a snapshot, the frustration his brother had caused.

He thought of Jesse. Warm and welcoming, soft eyes and rich voice. He thought of his voice lulling him into a sleep, his shoulder perfectly tailored for Hanzo’s tired head, his body a sanctuary. He thought of the way he had looked at him in a way nobody ever had before.

He wanted to see him again, that was certain. More than anything he wanted to see him again. To feel his warmth, his arm around Hanzo’s waist and his hands around his body…

His phone chimed, the late alarm. The clock read 9:15, and Hanzo’s heart began to race. They were still ten minutes from his workplace, and his shift had officially started. He held his head in hands, music draining out the world.

 

* * *

 

McCree woke with sunlight blinding his eyes. He squinted at the window, groaning at the sudden invasion of light filling the room. He felt something heavy against his leg, and peered over to inspect it. The guitar leaned on him, the pick beside it on the ground. He didn’t remember falling asleep, it had just happened. The first easy sleep he had had in days. _Hanzo._

He turned to his right, looking for the man he had spent the night with. There was no trace of him anywhere. _He just left?_ McCree shook his head, standing up to go brew some coffee, god knows he needed it. His coffeepot was old and cheap, and the coffee it produced was nothing short of disgusting, and reeked of burning metal. But there was a novelty about it, a certain charm. When he had moved in, the coffeepot had been left behind and unofficially became his first piece of furniture.

It screamed while it brewed, the coffee hitting the glass pot in loud sizzles while he leaned against the counter. He glanced around the room, searching for any sign that someone else had been with him last night. A forgotten sweater, shoe, even a note. Yet, nothing. Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair when his eyes caught. A smear of black on his right hand, writing of some sort. He raised the hand to his face to examine it. A phone number ran across the back of his hand in quick scrawl.

A grin broke over his face, wider than a blossoming flower. He looked at it, even the style of the numbers nothing less than elegant. Each curve perfect, and every stick as straight as a road. A giddy giggle burst from within him as the coffee finished, his heart beating with sudden excitement and eagerness. He grabbed a mug from the sink, inspecting it quickly. It was his favourite mug, a simple plain white one with ‘Santa Fe’ written across it in boring cursive lettering, the ‘S’ and ‘E’ chipping at the bottom. It had flicks of brown ringing around the bottom--past coffee beans. He shrugged, _clean enough._

As he drunk himself through the metallic coffee, he thought of what to text Hanzo. All he knew in that moment was that he had to see him again. He had to see those glittering sun-kissed eyes again, the moon caught in the strands of his hair. And that smile…

McCree’s heart skipped, the brew hot on his tongue. He looked at his hand, admiring the ten digits inscribed over his skin. He thought of the night before, the heat off Hanzo’s body as he fit his head onto Jesse’s shoulder. It had been too long before someone had touched him like that, longer since it had been reciprocated.

Sipping down the last drops of burnt black coffee, he placed the mug back down in the sink and reached for his phone still sitting in his pocket.  He held it in his hands, cold, black. He clicked it on, typing Hanzo’s number in and staring at the text screen. There were a million words, a million options. A million things to say.

[Hey I had fun last night] He scoffed, deleting them and trying again.

[Hey how are you?] He erased the message as soon as he typed it.

[Good morning] He was desperate, searching for the words to hit his head. He stared at the phone, the small keyboard waiting for words to pop from the screen. Jesse groaned, hitting his phone against his forehead, half hoping that if he hit hard enough words would eventually spill out. He had never been good with words, always waited until the rights ones clawed out of his throat, only to miss his opportunities. But here, he held the opportunity in his hand.

He smacked the phone against his forehead one more time.  

 

* * *

 

The bus creeped along the sidewalk, reaching the stop with a practiced ease. Hanzo jumped off, waving a quick ‘thank you’ to the driver before reaching his workplace, his pace quickening with every step. The library was only a few minutes away, one if he ran. He had been working there for just over three months, trying to establish a sustainable lifestyle for Genji and himself. His father’s business was too risky, too dangerous and he had grown tired of the violence and the pleas of innocent men before their death. He wanted it to be over, to be out of his life forever. He wanted to run.

He picked up his pace, checking his phone quickly, the time now 9:27. He reached the grand doors of the library, taller than himself. He always loved that, always adored how the library made him feel so much smaller in the world, insignificant. He creaked the doors open, stepping inside as quiet as he could. There was a sudden crash as the doors closed behind him bringing the attention of everyone inside. Eyes wide from shock peering at him. He turned to the desk, where a young Indian woman glared up at him, a hand folded under her chin.

“You’re late, Shimada.” She stated, tapping her watch once for every minute, her long nail clicking against the glass. Her voice was clear and delicate, enunciating every word perfectly with a slight curl of her tongue. He stepped towards the desk, leaning in to avoid anyone overhearing the conversation.

“I’m sorry Ms. Vaswani, you have my assurance it shall never happen again.” Her eyes flicked away for a second, dark against her brown skin, before turning back at him with a look almost expressionless. She was hard to read, her head always held high and her lips always in a pout of disinterest.

“Mm. I would hope not.” Her eyes looked over his body, raising a lip. “Did you not wear that yesterday?,” She turned away from him, twisting her chair to face the computer on the other side of her body, her posture nothing less than perfect. Her thick black hair hung down her back in elegant loose curls.

Hanzo ignored her tone and proceeded to the back room to drop off his coat. His boss, Satya Vaswani, was infamous for her prideful and formal attitude. She had picked up the job primarily due to her dislike of socialising and crowds. She kept to herself, and never spoke to her employees about anything that wasn’t strictly work related. Hanzo didn’t mind, in fact he preferred it. He wanted nothing more than to bury his past in conversations about books, libraries, and the dewey decimal system.

He walked out onto the floor, grabbing a cart of returns to shelve, reading the titles now poetry to him. _Pride and Prejudice, the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn,_ and _the Picture of Dorian Gray,_ all now staring at him in anticipation to return to their dusty shelves. There was a must in the air, the rich smell of old pages encompassing the building and all inside. The lighting was dim and soft, lulling those inside into a quiet hush. There were couches in the back corner, perfect for napping or curling with a good book.

Hanzo walked over to the Classics section, beginning his routine of shoving the books where they belong, humming softly to himself.

 _“Country roads, take me home…”_ The warm voice echoed in Hanzo’s ear, unable to put the memory from mind. Jesse...there was something different about him. He reached for his phone staring at the blank text message screen, before quickly typing in the song title and plugging his headphones into his ears.

 

* * *

 

McCree’s eyes burned into his phone screen before finally shoving it back into his jeans pockets, now hanging low on his hips, his shirt riding up and exposing a dark treasure trail. He looked around the apartment, the light hitting onto the discarded guitar laying on the floor, a piece of paper just hidden underneath.

He walked over to it, leaning down to pick it up. As he pulled it out, he quickly realized what he was holding. A photo, old and bent. The corners arched inwards, and half of it missing. A young green-haired boy stared up at him, his eyes bright and full. His teeth were crooked, and a gap sat between his front teeth. There was an arm around him, whoever belonging to it ripped from the picture. He recognized the eyes, glistening honey. _Genji._

Jesse scrambled for his phone, opening his new contact his thumbs hovering over his keyboard, when a chime interrupted his thought. A text? He opened it. Did Hanzo grab his number? The contact glimmered at the top of his screen--Fareeha. He groaned, disappointment filling his mind.

[Hey what happened last night?? who was that cutie? did u bang?]

He chuckled softly. Her favourite thing was invading his personal life, and his favourite thing was giving in.

[No lol we just kinda fell asleep]

[Lame. u gonna see him again?]

He looked at the message, simple and plain. Would he see him again? It was an easy enough question, the answer a simple yes or no. Yet, he found himself captivated by it, unable to find a word to reply. He looked down at the picture, the background pink and filled by soft sunlight. It must’ve been from Japan, he was going to miss it. He looked back at the phone.

[I hope so]

He closed the screen and went back to Hanzo’s clear contact page. He sent the message before he had time to delete it, his breath caught in his throat and his heart throbbing in his ear.

 

* * *

 

There was a vibration in his pocket, and the music quieted for a breath of a second, as Hanzo picked his phone from his joggers. There was a message from an unknown contact for a second, his mind went clear. All other sounds become silent, his ears deaf and his blind to anything outside of the unread message appearing on his phone:

[hey sug you left so fast you left something behind. give me the chance to return it?]

A smile crept over his face, his tired eyes lighting up. He read it once, twice, over and over until it was lodged in his brain like a song, the lyrics all his.

He held the phone, twiddling his thumbs just above it. He never texted at work, never did any of this. Sleep at a stranger's house, leave early in the morning, never spent the day with one person on his mind at all times.

[I shall allow it. I am free tomorrow.]

A second passed before three dots appeared on his screen and he watched them with unbroken concentration. His eyes burned into phone, his heart fast and beating furiously.

[you drive a hard bargain but i think i can make it. meet me at my apartment for 7? PG ONLY YOU FLIRT]

Hanzo grinned, full and wide until his cheeks ached from the pain. He couldn’t stop, he couldn’t wait. He longed to see Jesse again, he didn’t care the reason why.

  
[I make no promises]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all for reading!!! if you want more mchanzo trash you can follow my blog dragonsandcowboys.tumblr.com // i hope you guys enjoyed and updates should come weekly!


	3. Chapter 3

McCree had spent the entire night awake, waiting for the sun to rise and the new day to begin.  His new day with Hanzo. He was giddy, and practically bound to work. Sundays were his favourite shift, all day they streamed old classics, a constant small crowd of hipsters and elders filtering through. He had planned to have Hanzo over at his apartment at seven. However, he half hoped Hanzo would show up at the theater in a grand romantic gesture. Perhaps a rose in his mouth and a glimmer in his eyes.

He beamed, changing into his uniform and shrugging on a warm red flannel jacket as he head out into the chilly October air.

By the time he had reached the theater, Fareeha was already sitting behind the counter, her legs up while she read something on her phone.

“Good morning Jesse,” she greeted, a sly grin creeping over his lips. “You look happy,” she rose a sharp eyebrow, a scar just barely clipping the end.

“Mmhm,” he walked behind the counter and sat next to her, grabbing her phone from her hands to receive her full attention. “I’m seein’ him again tonight,”

Her eyes bugged, “That boy from the other day?”

Jesse nodded, shoving his coat into the shelves underneath the counter in a swift motion. “He left uh, somethin’ personal at my home that other night.”

“Underwear? A condom? A--”

“No! Jeez Far, It was just a picture of someone important to him.”

She pouted, sticking her dark crimson lips out. “Not an ex?”

“His brother,”

“I’m sure that’s what he told you,” McCree stifled a laugh at her absurdity and she took the moment to reach across his muscled chest to claim back her phone. Jesse looked at her, pointedly raising an eyebrow as he leaned closer, his face only an inch from her vigours fingers, texting at a rapid speed. She glared at him. “Yes?”

“Is that your gal?”

“It may be,”

A gentle breeze suddenly hit their cheeks and they both turned to see two young men walk through the spinning doors, their arms hooked together as they admired every inch of the theater. The white columns shoved into the corners, the bright red carpet, and the heavy smell of freshly popped popcorn. They beamed at the two employees, bright white grins.

“Welcome to the Anubis Theater, how can I help you today?” Fareeha smiled, her voice raising by an octave as she swung her legs back down to the ground. McCree grinned, and she stomped down on his foot, the scene concealed by the tall counter only revealing their chest and up.

The two men stood there for a second before realizing they were being talked to. One was darker than the other and he stared at McCree, his gaze hot and his lips raised in a snarl. The other one simply smiled, stroking the arm of the man beside him. He had pointed blond hair and crystal blue eyes. They widened in surprise as Fareeha waved at them, catching their attention.

“Shit sorry,” The blond man approached, reluctantly pulling forward the man in tow. “We’d like to have two tickets for,” he lowered his voice suddenly to speak to his partner, “Are we seeing _Titanic_ or what, Gabe?”

“I wanted to watch _the Crow_.”

“Well we can if you want,”

“No. _Titanic.”_

The blond reverted his attention back to Fareeha, flashing her a perfect smile. “Sorry. Two tickets for _Titanic?_ ”

“Sure thing,” she clicked the keyboards with short black nails, the colour chipping off slowly. The tickets printed off with a loud shudder and she handed them to the men with the largest smile she could physically muster, turning back to McCree with a groan as they walked away.

“Who were they?”

She rolled her eyes“Friends of the family. I have to be ‘extra nice’ when they come by.”

“Gotcha. So tell me ‘bout your gal.”

A shade of rouge crossed over her cheeks and she quickly averted her eye contact, reaching for her phone. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“C’mon Far, ya practically fucked in the theater.”

She shushed him quickly, placing a finger against his lips. She glanced around the theater for any stray customers searching for the washroom, or a refill of whatever sugar-filled soda they were gorging themselves on. Her eyes were wide and dark, her ties of hair falling over her face, almost concealing her tattoo.

“This _cannot_ leave the booth,” He nodded earnestly, waiting for her to continue. “She’s a friend of my mom, Angela Ziegler. God, I’ve had a crush on her since I realized I was gay, hell I realized I was gay because of her.” A content and lazy smile appeared on her face, and in a moment she looked more at peace than Jesse had ever seen her. She looked up at him, her eyes full of adoration and bliss. “We first kissed behind the theater, I had just came off my shift and she was waiting for me, the stupidest grin on her face and that just started everything. So now whenever we’re free we meet here.”

“That’s real cute Far, didn’t know ya had such a squishy side.” She glared at him with poison in her eyes. He enjoyed these days, when the two of them could joke and gossip, laughing together while the movies blared into the hall. It reminded him of when they were young teenagers, Ana bringing him kicking and screaming into their lives. He had been in a bad place with bad people holding him down, an ant under a magnifying glass. There was a boy he had known, with sun-kissed skin and dark blue eyes, the ones you could lose yourself in. They were young, barely teenagers, and they shared an early type of love. That was before they found out and Jesse’s world darkened, turning from anger to fear.

“Jesse?” His head snapped up, Fareeha smiling down at him, “Tell me about your boy,”

McCree beamed.

 

* * *

 

The cookbook was propped open against a stand, Hanzo squinting at the fine print. The title read ‘Mochi Ice Cream’ in delicate _kanji_ print, and beside it featured a picture of a pile of exquisite and elegant textured balls of rice cake. Colours littered the page: green, pink, white, each topped with their own individual pattern.

He had never been good at cooking, dinner was always provided for his family by the servants who worked there, blackmailed into service.  But, he decided, to repay the kindness Jesse had shown him he was going to bring a dessert with him in exchange for the photo.

He looked down at his phone as he waited for the ice-cream balls to finish freezing, staring at the texts McCree had sent him in preparation. He had the details engraved into his mind; seven o'clock, Jesse’s apartment, he’d meet him there. He could hardly wait, and his eyes crinkled as he read the texts once again, smiling as he thought of McCree’s eyes once more looking into his. He didn’t know what he wanted from this, or what he was doing flirting so heavily with the other man.  It was foolish of him, childish. He couldn’t tell apart the emotions bubbling rapidly inside him. Shame, fear, maybe even joy.

The worst part was not even knowing what he had left behind. A sock, a shoe, money? He had no clue. Part of him believed that Jesse was lying on the off chance they could see each other again, but another part…

His eyes turned back to the screen, focused, concentrated. He couldn’t be late, everything had to be perfect. All he wanted was to be perfect, was for Jesse to think he was perfect. And then what? Fall in love, get married, grow old together?

Hanzo creased his eyebrows together, a strand of hair falling in his face. That was what got his brother in danger, that kind of carelessness created a target on his back. Then again, maybe Genji had been right about everything. After temporarily leaving the business, Hanzo had felt empty. Useless. There was nothing for him to do in the outside world, no friends, no jobs. The only thing he had ever been good at was the business, without that, he was nothing.

Yet, there was Jesse. Effortlessly kind, strong and beautiful. His voice was deep and soft, velvet to the ears. There was a tingling at the thought of him. Hanzo couldn’t play it, was it love or lust? Lust was easy, a cloudy night, a blur of memories and groggy moans, and then it was over. Love however, love was much more complicated.

The timer on his phone blared and he stood to grab the platter of mochi from the freezer. He smiled at them, pride filling through his body. They were each perfect, round with not a single dent or crack to be seen. Grinning, he began to pack them gently into a tupperware, before glancing quickly at his watch: 5:32. He still had time.

 

* * *

 

Outside, the sky rapidly began to darken. The light of the sun depleting beyond the horizon. A stream of gold poured in through the glass as the sun began to dip, capturing the hold of a million particles of dust its wake.  Jesse sat leaned back in his chair, hat resting over his eyes in an attempt to grab a few minutes of sleep. Fareeha sat beside him, fingers rapidly typing over her phone. By now, the crowds gathered in for the classics marathon had filtered out as the event ended, replaced by the current movies set up in their appropriate theatre.

On Saturdays they were open until eight, late enough for a date and early enough so they weren’t exhausted by the end of their shift. Fareeha had agreed to close tonight, regardless of the hours already piled on her day.

He held his phone in his hand, reading over the messages Hanzo had sent to him, a flutter of exhilaration running down his spine. He glanced back over to Fareeha, envy filling him to the core. She texted so effortlessly, carelessly. Turning back to his phone, he quickly crafted a message and sent it before he had the chance to delete it.

[i’m lookin forward to seein you tonight]

He stared at the blank screen, unable to tear away. A sudden cloud of ellipsis took his view and his heart skipped a beat.

[I look forward to it as well. What are your intentions?]

Jesse grinned, cocking an eyebrow. [surprises, hon]

[You should know I dislike surprises]

[thats cause you havent experienced mine]

[Indulge me]

“Texting him?” The sudden voice his ear sent a jolt through his body, and his phone fell to the carpeted floor. Fareeha beamed beside him, and he rolled his eyes. “Ask him to send a pic.”

He groaned, partially wondering how far he could set back his eyes and was it possible to see the inside of your own skull? “I’m not doin’ that. Look, I…” his breath caught, his mind frozen as he struggled to find the words. Then again, what were the words? How could he describe the way he felt, after only a few days? It was too quick, too rushed, too cliche. He had never done this before, he had always taken his time always waiting on his partner never taking charge. He had never wanted to do this before, there was no one else who seemed to make him as giddy. Every text from him was like waking up on Christmas.

“I don’ wanna scare him away. There’s somethin’ about him, y’know?” He ignored her mocking smirk, staring at him like an exhibit. He reached down to pick his phone off the ground, dusting a few hairs and crumbs off the screen. As it flickered to life the time just creeping past 5:45. Panic swept through McCree, cold and sudden. He turned to Fareeha, his phone lit up.

“Yeah, go, have fun.” She muttered, turning back to her texting, fingers flying a million miles per hour as she typed. He shrugged on his jacket, shovelled into the shelf underneath the counter and bound over the desk in a matter of seconds. “You owe me!” Fareeha’s voice was distant as he ran out the theater, pushing through the swinging doors. His heart hammered in time with his feet, quickening by the second. He climbed into the truck, starting it as fast as he could, a ‘bang’ shooting from the exhaust pipe as the vehicle groaned to life.

He had made plans to make a dinner, to surprise or impress Hanzo--he wasn’t quite sure which. There would be pasta, steaming at the sight, a delicate rosé poured evenly overtop of pale al-dente noodles. Beside the dish, a glass of a rich wine which had been given to him by Ana during his housewarming party. He had never opened it, it had sentimental value and he was afraid he would waste it on the wrong moment. But he was sure about this, sure about Hanzo.

There was something about him, a familiarity. The darkness behind his eyes, the one he tried to conceal with flirty banter and shy side-smiles, was one McCree had known his whole life. It was the very same darkness he had been so desperate to avoid and run from. Yet, he was drawn. The pain in their eyes was the same as in their hearts.

The wind coursed through his hair as the tires dug into the road, well above the speed limit. The sun had disappeared beyond the array of houses, roofs littering the horizon. A dim glow from streetlights illuminated the roads ahead, beacons against the pitch blanket of night.

He reached his apartment in a flurry, houses and trees only lines in his rearview. The time neared six o’clock, and he rushed up the stairs two at a time, desperate to finish before Hanzo arrived. He fumbled with his keys, struggling to fit them in the lock, his hands shaking, dizzy with bemusement.    


* * *

 

The trees passed in a blur, shadows in the night. The sound of crickets invaded Hanzo’s music, quiet and distant. He had left half an hour early, terrified of showing up late. He held the mochi tightly on his knees, knuckles white from his grip. His heart hammered in his head, loud and distressing, An incessant drumming, mercilessly pounding in his ear. If he were a cartoon, it would be beating outside of his chest.

The bus crept to a stop, the same one he had run to the day before. The apartment stood tall in the distance, windows lit up like cat-eyes, glowing through the darkness. The road beneath his feet was cracked and the concrete seemed to crumble underneath his steps, rubble lying in its wake. It was riddled with abandoned potholes, now filled with grass and budding flowers. Hanzo liked that image--life growing from destruction. That broken things don’t necessarily need to be fixed, but rather filled.

He approached the apartment with growing restlessness, palms sweaty to the touch. He tucked his music into his pants’ pocket as he reached the main entrance, and took the stairs with his heart lodged in his throat, unable to swallow.

McCree’s door stood out among the rest. A giant welcome mat lay at the foot of his apartment, ‘welcome y’all’ scrawled into the weaving in black cursive. He couldn’t help crack a small grin at the sight, and slowly raised a hand to the door, cradling the rubbermaid in his arm.

The door opened instantly, and Hanzo took a quick step back in surprise. In front of him was the face he had been unable to put from mind for days, with a smile painted on his face--larger than life. His hair was disheveled, twisted and tangled in a million places. His face was splattered with an orange sauce, a large glob resting on the corner of his lips. Hanzo wanted to throw the mochi to the side in that moment, rush towards him and reach to lick the sauce away and melt into him. Hide from the world in the hold of his arms. His heart which was beating faster than the wings of a hummingbird only moments before, had seemingly stopped, skipping at the sight of that warm smile and those beautiful dimples.

“Come in,”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! if you want more mchanzo trash you can visit my blog dragonsandcowboys.tumblr.com // i hope you guys enjoyed and updates should come weekly!


	4. Chapter 4

The door shut behind him, and the smell of garlic and cheese filled his nose, wrapping him into the rich aroma of the room. There was a table before him, two chairs sticking out underneath a delicate white tablecloth. A candle covered in old wax lit the area, a warm glow filtering over the table. Two bowls sat in front of the chairs, repleted with thick cheesy noodles. 

“You’re a lil’ early,” the voice came from behind him, and he turned to see McCree looking bashfully down at his feet, a bright blush of shame rising over his cheeks. His eyes rose slightly to examine the rubbermaid Hanzo held clenched in his hands. “What’s that there?” 

Hanzo’s eyes widened at the question, forgetting for a second about the dessert he had spent hours preparing. “It is mochi ice cream, in return for all you have done.” Even as he spoke he himself unable to turn away from the dim light shrouding the table. Hanzo stared at the sight, a warmth filling his body. “You… made dinner?”

Jesse laughed for a second, rich and soothing. “Surprise,” he said weakly, taking a seat down at the table. 

Hanzo looked over to the kitchen, the counter glistening from a fresh clean.  “I uh wanted to make a lil’ somethin’ more but I reckon I ain’t much of a cooker.” A box sat on top of it an orange powder dusting the front, and Hanzo creased his eyebrows together in a second of dazzlement. The box was torn open at the top, giant orange letters reading  _ ‘Kraft Dinner’  _ over the front. Jesse watched him, smirking at the confusion. “Would ya like t’join me?” 

“Yes,” he placed the mochi down on the counter as he took a seat in front of McCree, their knees pressed against each other. The table was small, hardly large enough to fit two grown men without a feather of touch. He dug his fork into the bowl before him, taking a bite of the cheesy pasta. The taste kissed against his tongue, subtle and delicate. The noodles were soft and moist, the cheese melting at the touch. He closed his eyes, the rich taste of butter coursing down his throat in a single swallow. 

A light chuckling filled the room and Hanzo’s eyes shot open to see McCree stifling laughter. “Sug’, it’s just Mac’n’cheese, ya don’ have t’pretend it’s gourmet.”

“It is incredible,” he paused for a moment, the noodles warm in his stomach. Jesse smiled at him, pouring a crimson wine into his empty goblet. Hanzo was silent, watching the action with awe. He looked up, meeting those haunting eyes for a second, gratitude washing up inside of him. “Nobody has ever done anything like this for me before.” 

“What? Made ya dinner?” 

Hanzo shook his head, trying to find the words. “No…  _ this.”  _ He reached across the table to where Jesse’s hand was resting, interlocking their fingers, letting his caress over the cowboy’s, feeling every soft inch. The knuckles, the veins, the creases and patches of dry skin. “All of this.” A second passed, the tick of a clock loud in the quiet. “Jesse, may I ask you a question?” 

Jesse turned his hand over, their palms touching while their fingers danced over each other. “Of course,” 

The candlelight flickered over Jesse’s skin, the shadows faint. Hanzo squeezed his hand, his jaw tightening. “Why are you doing this for me?” 

 

* * *

 

 

Jesse shook his head, slowly at first, his words catching in his throat. Silence plagued him, and in a moment of speechlessness he opened his mouth, dry and aching, transfixed by the man before him. His heart accelerated at the tight hold of his hand. “Not sure whatcha mean, Han."

Hanzo met his eyes, dark and kind, a strand of dark hair falling over his face. “You do not know me,” he mumbled finally, fluster controlling his words, his emotions. “You do not know me, yet you go through such extremities and acts of kindness but for what purpose?” 

Jesse flashed a smile at him as he slurped down a noodle, cheese staining his lips.“I don’ know Han, there’s somethin’ about ya. Familiar, homily. I dunno, I just… well I had to help. Gosh sugar, couldn’t just leave ya there cryin’ on your own.” The eye contact broke.  _ Fuck.  _ He had a habit of saying the wrong thing, putting his boot where his words were. 

Gently, Hanzo began to retract his hand, moving it gradually away from McCree’s. In a flurry,  Jesse’s hand was soaring across the table, grasping onto Hanzo’s, whose eyes widened at the sudden touch, but didn’t pull back. “Han, listen I know you’ve had to deal with some pretty shitty things, but y’know so have I. I see the way ya flinch at the slightest of touches, an’ I recognize the pain in your eyes ‘cause it’s the same pain I’ve been carryin’ for years.” By now, Hanzo’s eyes met his, dark and watering in the pale glow of the candle. “An’ I’m not tryin’ to say that your pain doesn’t matter ‘cause we’ve all had pain, but rather that you’re not alone, darlin’. Ya shouldn’t have to ever be alone. An’ I know it’s only been a few days but, Christ, I swear I’ve known ya my whole life.”

Hanzo only looked at him, dry full lips parted slightly. His hand was still in Jesse’s hold, and a splotch of Kraft Dinner stained his chin. His hair was disheveled, long strands of silky black hair springing loose from his tie, catching on his chin. His silence hung in the air, long and tortuous as Jesse listened to his every breath. The only sound emitting from his fork scraping along his bowl in an agonizing squeal.  

“Please say somethin’,” 

A tear dribbled from Hanzo’s eye and he rubbed it away fiercely with his free hand, careful not to budge McCree’s hold. He gave Jesse’s hand a light squeeze, needles pinning wherever they touched. “I do not feel alone as much anymore. Not when I am with you, anyway.” 

Jesse’s heart stopped in his throat, his words tangled in his mind, the thoughts unraveling like an old film strip. Hanzo’s pupils were dilated and glistening, threatening to reveal a tear if his mind trailed to the wrong thing. 

McCree opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. “Hanzo, I--" 

“What is it that I seemed to have misplaced?” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo watched Jesse fumble with his words, tightening in the bottom of his throat, somewhere perhaps at the back of his mind. He had trouble with this stuff, opening up and revealing alien emotions. Unknown and unfamiliar. If he didn’t hold back, they would bubble up and fly away, leaves in the breeze. 

Jesse’s forehead creased, confusion and a blink of humiliation. “Right. Give me a second,” he grabbed his plate and then Hanzo’s in a single movement, tossing them in the cluttered sink with a ‘crash’, glass bashing glass. His hand reached for something on the top of the fridge, a scrap of paper--a discarded note? He placed it down in front of Hanzo, and for a second it felt as if lightning struck his chest, taking away his breath and his thoughts. “It was jus’ sittin’ on the floor, figured it was important t’ya.” Genji’s face beamed up at him, bright and innocent. His cheeks were rose-painted, and green strands fell over the black bandanna he had always worn, insisting it looked ‘cool’. 

He stood, back against their old cherry blossoms, blooming in a soft pink glow. His eyes were squinting against the bright sunlight of midday, and leaned into shoulder of the man ripped from the picture. Hanzo quickly shoved into his pocket, hating every second it sat on display. 

He averted his eyes, darting around with every panicked thought. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. McCree leaned against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest, his shirt rising up just over his naval. For a second Hanzo’s eyes lingered down on the exposed patch of sepia skin, a flurry of heat coursing through his body. 

“I… should leave,” Hanzo murmured, eyes unable to tear away from the crack of skin, a tiny gut just hanging over the tight waistline of his tattered jeans. 

A smug smile crossed over Jesse’s face, eyelids lowering in a coquettish gaze. “My eyes are up here, darlin’,” his finger gestured up to his face and instantly Hanzo was snapped to attention, eyes cold and distant. He battled against a rising blush threatening over his cheeks, the humiliation of being caught formed a stone in his chest, heavy and full. He stood from the chair, the leg creaking against the hardwood. He moved in rapid cramming the photo hastily into his pockets. He averted his eyes away from Jesse, a sickening guilt situated in his stomach. 

He moved towards the door, anxious to leave before another word escaped through his mouth. He always did the wrong thing, always acted in the moment, never in control. Powerless, weak. 

A force stopped him. A strong hold around his bicep, firm, steady, fingers digging into his skin. He followed the hand up the toned bronzed arm to the dark, pleading eyes of Jesse McCree. 

 

* * *

  

“Please don’ go,” his lips trembled as he spoke, a fear of rejection coursing through his body. Hanzo’s eyes burned into his, amber and cold. There was a distance, a restraint which Hanzo seemed subject to. His emotions reserved under the largest mask

He watched Hanzo’s eyes flicker over his hold, Jesse’s breath quivering in anticipation. Slowly, he released Hanzo’s arm, cheeks burning fire. “‘Sides,” he began, “we didn’ even try your moch-i.” 

A small smile crossed over Hanzo’s lips, and McCree’s heart skipped a beat. “It is pronounced  _ mochi. _ ” Hanzo turned to face him, letting his hand run over Jesse’s arm in a delicate brush. Static coursed between them, a shock of chemistry. Delicate and delightful, widening smiles on the two of them in a moment of pure harmony. 

“So you’ll stay?” There was a slight rise in the question, a flicker of hope in McCree’s voice. He gazed into Hanzo’s eyes, the colour of liquid flame. His eyelashes were heavy overtop, a curtain of black over his stare. 

Hanzo’s hand trailed up to grab a stray strand of Jesse’s hair, and for a second he swore a flurry of desire swept over Hanzo’s face. The shorter man tugged on the strand playfully, grinning up at McCree with a smile so bright Jesse thought it might outshine the sun. “I suppose I shall stay. For the mochi,” Hanzo’s voice was smooth and warm, almost like the sharp tang of whiskey. Jesse wanted to melt, to stay with him forever, trapped eternally in his eyes with his hands in McCree’s hair. 

In a second, Hanzo was sitting back in his chair hands in his lap as if nothing had happened. Jesse shook his head, muttering soft Spanish under his breath, amused beyond all belief. He headed towards the counter to where the rubbermaid had been discarded, and gently took the top off before bringing it to the table. He examined the pressed ball-shapes with increasing curiosity, green circles staring up at him. Slowly, he reached down to grab one, the ball fitting perfectly in his hand. It was cold to the touch, refreshing against the humid glow of the candles. 

“So I just… bite it?” Jesse asked, holding the ice cream just in front of his mouth, eyes examining the frozen rice texture. 

The tiniest smile crept over Hanzo’s lips, smug and amused. “Yes. Careful, they are cold.” 

“Do ya mind showin’ me?” Jesse watched him gradually rise from his chair, his heart pounding with every step Hanzo took towards him until he stood not two inches away from McCree’s face. Coolly, Hanzo reached into the container, grabbing a dessert with practiced ease. He rose it to his lips, plump and rosy, taking a bite into the soft rice, his eyes never once leaving Jesse’s. The cowboy felt a heat flush through him, his entire mind focused on nothing else but the placid expression painted over Hanzo’s face. The candlelight danced over his skin, shadows playing over his cheekbones. Jesse struggled for breath, for a word lodged in his dry throat. 

“Now you try,” a velvet voice muttered. He hadn’t even noticed Hanzo reach into the rubbermaid again, now holding a ball up to McCree’s lips. He licked them for a second, trying to apply moisture to his mouth as he slowly opened it to allow Hanzo entrance. The mochi pressed against his lips, frigid and creamy, a rush of sweetness blanketing over his tongue. The rice was delicate, the texture soft against his dry throat as he swallowed the single bite down. He didn’t realize he had closed his eyes until they opened to see Hanzo, standing less than an inch away. His breath was warm on Jesse’s neck, and for a second--just a second--there was nothing he wanted more than to grab Hanzo’s shirt collar and melt their lips together, bodies warm against each other. McCree could feel his cheeks flushing from his thoughts, struggling to avoid looking into Hanzo’s icy stare. He was charming, in a way, without even knowing. His eyes were a spell and his lips were a sin. 

“Well?” Hanzo purred, the word a breath on his lips. 

McCree flashed a smile, hoping to distract from his shaky breaths and no doubt crimson cheeks. He wasn’t used to this, being flustered by another man. Usually it was all under his control, and he could charm the pants off of anybody, just ask. Yet, Hanzo had a way to make Jesse’s lip quiver and hands shake. 

“It’s amazin’,” Jesse said, careful not to look directly into Hanzo’s eyes, knowing full well his knees would collapse if he did.  

Hanzo looked up at him, and suddenly Jesse was all too conscious of the extra inches he held over Hanzo, towering over him. “I am glad you enjoy it,” Hanzo whispered, eyes focused on McCree’s lips, desire colouring his eyes black. 

A loud whistle echoed from Jesse’s pocket, and Hanzo took a sudden step back. As if a thousand bricks had been lifted abruptly off his chest, McCree let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding as he reached for his phone. A message from Fareeha glowed green on his screen: 

[did u fuck him yet?] 

McCree choked at the text, immediately angling his phone closer to his body so Hanzo was incapable of reading it. His fingers flew across the screen as he texted a reply, telling her to essentially mind her own business before looking back up at Hanzo. By now, he was standing beside the couch, with one arm crossed over his chest gripping his elbow in a shy stance. Confusion tugged at McCree’s eyebrows, and he took a step over to him. 

“Is everythin’ alright? ‘M real sorry ‘bout the text.”  

“No, it is not that. I just… “ he trailed off for a second, his distant and his eyes averted. Jesse watched him, curious as to how his emotions could shift so greatly. One second Hanzo was practically rubbing up to him, and the second he was as timid as a mouse. 

 

* * *

 

Hanzo struggled to find breath, to the find courage to ask of what he needed. He couldn’t stand himself when he was like this, the anxiety flooding his lungs and throat, making it harder to breath or even speak. 

He glanced up at the man staring at him with a mixture of confusion and encouragement, nodding slightly with a reassuring smile. Hanzo uncrossed his arms, taking in a breath. “It is getting quite late outside, and I was wondering if it would be possible for me to stay the night?” 

He braced himself, ready for Jesse to back off and scream ‘no’, forcing him towards the door. Or worse, averted eyes and awkward smiles as McCree tried to politely decline, muttering the first excuse that came to his mind. Hanzo always dreaded those, the next day his mind solely focused on whether or not they wanted to be contacted again, or if he had ruined things forever. The screams were easier to deal with, they were what he was used to and they gave him a direct answer followed by a flurry of insults, of which he was used to them all. 

Yet, nothing came. Jesse only looked at him, as Hanzo tensed his body, squinting his eyes as if someone were about to hit him. He watched as a wave of pity was followed by sympathy and McCree took a soft step towards him. “Of course ya can, why on earth would ya be afraid to ask me that?” His voice was gentle, quiet and Hanzo was suddenly stabbed with a million emotions grabbling around his heart. 

He racked his brain for something to say: thank you, you’re so kind, how can I repay you? However, the only thing he managed to say was a quiet, “forgive me”. 

“For what, darlin’? Ya did nothin’ wrong.” 

Hanzo let out a quiet laugh, “I suppose it is an old force of habit. Thank you… for everything.” He glanced up at Jesse, eyes searching for something he wasn’t sure of. Patience, reassurance perhaps. A second of silence passed, a blink. Slowly, Jesse stepped towards him and for an instant Hanzo thought he was going to kiss him. McCree’s arms reached out and instinctively he squeezed his eyes shut, tensing his body as he braced for the hit. But the hit never came, and he quickly felt strong arms around him, Jesse pulling him close in a blanket of warmth. For a second, Hanzo’s arms hung limp at his side, processing the moment as Jesse pulled him tighter, their chests pressed against each other. Slowly, he lifted them up, wrapping them hesitantly around the brunet’s heated body, just above his waist. He rested his head onto Jesse’s shoulder, savouring the embrace for what he wished to be forever. Bodies warm and soft, the hug tight and comforting. He didn’t want to leave McCree’s arms, and prayed he would never have to. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! if you want more mchanzo trash you can visit my blog dragonsandcowboys.tumblr.com // i hope you guys enjoyed and updates should come weekly!


	5. Chapter 5

The candles had blown out, single drifts of smoke spiraling through the black room. The only essence light seemed to be coming from the television, playing quietly through the room. The two sat together on the couch, the mochi was laid in front of them on the coffee table, rapidly diminishing. McCree wasn’t entirely sure of what they were watching, some gritty FBI show with a murderer lodged in a cabin in the woods. Usually he wasn’t a huge fan of cop shows but Hanzo seemed to be entranced so he kept the channel going. 

Jesse’s mind was in a million places, and all the while he found himself unable to turn away from the man sitting beside him, leaning in closer to the screen. He thought of the soft cries he had first heard in the theater, the feeling of Hanzo’s foot brushing against his leg, the blush of his cheeks in the soft candlelight, but above all: the warmth of their bodies against each other in that tight embrace. The weight of Hanzo’s head on his shoulder, trusting and affectionate. He didn’t want to move at the risk of disturbing the shorter man. The look Hanzo gave him as he pulled away from Jesse’s arms warmed his heart, dark eyes gazing up at him with a look of such compassion and closeness that for a moment McCree swore they belonged together. 

“I guess he…  _ couldn’t take the heat, _ ” an officer muttered as the cabin in the show was engulfed by flames. The credits began to roll, and Hanzo turned back to glance at him with a quick smile and an eyeroll, and Jesse couldn’t help but chuckle. 

The next episode began, a cheesy ‘80s rock song introducing the main characters. Hanzo leaned back against the couch, hair loose over his shoulders in cascading black waves, almost silver in the blue light. Slowly, McCree edged towards him, trying not to make a sound as their thighs touched slightly and then all at once. 

Hanzo turned his head, Jesse’s face right beside his. “Is this okay?” He asked in a hushed whisper, barely able to speak. Gently, the elder Shimada nodded his head, before turning back to the television waiting only a second before leaning into the touch. His head fell back under Jesse’s chin, resting on his chest. His body relaxed and he let out a content sigh, as McCree struggled to keep his composure and not melt at the touch. Bit by bit, he raised his arm and let it wrap over Hanzo’s shoulder, waiting for him to jerk forward or tense his body. But it never came, and Hanzo only nestled closer, their bodies fitting together in an unimaginable bliss. 

Jesse couldn’t chase the smile from his face, his cheeks hurting from the strain. He glanced down at the guitar discarded on the floor, what started it all. Hanzo’s hair itched slightly against Jesse’s bare neck, but it hardly bothered him. 

“Jesse…” a quiet murmur escaped beneath him. 

“Mm?” 

There was a flicker of silence, “I can hear your heartbeat.” Hanzo pressed his ear against Jesse’s chest as if proving his point, before tilting his head up to look at the man painted red, a soft smile toying on his lips. “I like your rhythm."

Jesse breathed, a laughter hidden amongst his nerves. “‘M glad ya do.” 

“It is a little irregular. I think maybe you are nervous?” Hanzo asked, raising an eyebrow. Jesse could feel sweat piercing through his palms, and he made an effort to make sure Hanzo didn’t notice. He almost loved the effect Hanzo had on him, the way a smile could his breath away and how a jutted eyebrow made his heart race a million miles. He felt powerless to Hanzo’s voice, that smooth rumble against his chest, breathing life into him. 

McCree looked down at him, their eyes meeting for a second. “I think maybe you’re gettin’ a lil’ cocky.” He retorted, mimicking the eyebrow raise with a smug grin. Hanzo let out a laugh, gentle and warm, accelerating Jesse’s heart at the sight. Hanzo must of noticed, but he said nothing.  

 

* * *

 

 

“Perhaps,” he mused before silently resting against McCree’s chest again, bliss coursing through him.  For the first time in his life he felt almost content, at peace. For once in his life his mind wasn’t in a state of merciless panic, the thought of Genji circling through his head, like water whirling through a drain. For once in his life he felt as if he could stay, ears pressed against the warm flannel, Jesse’s racing heartbeat distant and calming. 

He lifted his legs quietly up on the couch, allowing his entire body weight to rest against Jesse, who adjusted to accommodate Hanzo’s new position, the muted sound of sirens from the show filling the room. There was something intriguing about bad cop shows, the drama, the puns, or maybe it was being able to escape to a world worse than his. Knowing that somewhere there were people much more terrible than him, whose sins outweigh their morals. 

He felt a tug at his hair, and instantly glanced over to his side to see Jesse twirling a strand around his finger. A sigh escaped Hanzo’s lips, serenity locking him in place. 

A soft ding awoke him from his peaceful state, another notification from McCree’s phone and reality set in. He was letting himself get away. Abruptly, he sat up. 

“Shit ‘m real sorry I told her t’stop.” Jesse quickly said, sitting up beside him, eyes wide. 

“No I… do you mind if I use your shower quickly?”  

McCree nodded erratically, his mind trying to comprehend the situation. “Of course, right on down the hall.” Hanzo gave him a quick, polite smile before he moved away from the couch, leaving McCree alone staring hopelessly at his phone. It was dark around him, and he felt for the hallway with a blind hand, the wallpaper smooth under his calloused palms.

He reached the bathroom with ease, closing the door behind him and flicking the light switch, fluorescent beams engulfing the room and giving him a chance to let out a heavy breath. There wasn’t much in the washroom, a misplaced bath mat, a towel rack with a disheveled red towel hanging alone, and a bathtub/shower combination lining the back wall. Hanzo turned on the knob, the rush of water filling his ears in an entrancing wave. Almost instantly, steam began to cloud the room in a thin blanket of fog, his reflection slowly deteriorating in the mirror. 

Slowly, he began to unbutton the indigo dress-shirt he had thrown over black slacks, the cut of the shirt complementing his waist. It fell to the floor effortlessly, the sound muted by the running water. His pants and underwear quickly followed and in a second he felt a tinge of vulnerability. Alone in an almost stranger’s bathroom. But he didn’t feel unsafe. Rather, knowing Jesse was out there gave him a sense of security.  

He stepped into the shower, the sudden rush of water on his skin raising bumps over his arm. The water was warm, hot almost, refreshing against his body. His eyes drifted closed, shutting out the world from his vision. The only sound became the shower hitting against the porcelain wall, and the muscles of his back. He could feel his hair gradually weigh over his shoulders as it heavied with water, reaching almost the small of his back. Beads of water dripped down from the end strands, trickling over his ass and down his legs, until the water puddled around his feet before circling down the drain. 

Hanzo had always loved showers, even as a child. A chance to start over, a rebirth of sorts. Scrubbing at his skin, his hair, until every inch of himself was clean--all evidence of dirt and wrongdoings sent whirling down the drain. It gave him a chance to think. A chance to collect all of his thoughts, spinning around in his head until they made him dizzy. 

Water poured over his face, dripping down his brows over his closed eyelids trickling over his parted lips. He tried to think as he usually did, examine every individual thought in solidarity, but all he could think about was Jesse. The warmth of his skin, the comfort of his arms, the way  Hanzo’s head was able to fit perfectly on his shoulder. He thought of his eyes, chocolate and soft, somehow always managing to find his own. 

Hanzo’s hand combed through his hair, taking in a heavy breath. He opened his eyes against the water, squinting against the flow. He had asked to stay the night, how selfish of him. A sudden panic hit his heart. Had he implied they would sleep together? That the shower was to wash away a certain undisputable heat? He wanted to kiss him, he knew that, more than anything. He wanted to feel Jesse’s lips against his own, their bodies and their hands entwining like vines. But there was a fear, a worry of rejection or allowing someone to get close to him again. He didn’t want to hurt Jesse like he had hurt Genji, not when he had been so kind to him. 

He let the water engulf him in his thoughts, the steam clouding the mirror and the stream pouring over his back. 

 

* * *

 

Jesse sat alone, staring at his phone. He wished he could throw it away, crack the screen into a million little pieces so it would never bother him again. In a single toss he could isolate himself from the world, alone in his apartment with Hanzo, no one to bother them. 

He felt like an idiot, like a child. He had told Fareeha to stop, to leave them alone. She never listened, not until she got her way.  He supposed--in that way--she was just like her mother, stubborn until the last second. He could remember early years with the two of them, screaming matches until their voices gave way and they used their bedroom doors to scream for them. He would sit alone in his room, hand fiddling over the unknown strings of the shiny new guitar Ana had claimed to be ‘left behind by someone who didn’t deserve it’, though he never understood what she meant. In that dusty little room in their shared house, he had taught himself numerous acoustic songs, singing softly to himself at night when the house began to settle and the girls began to sleep. 

Nevertheless, he loved Fareeha. She had always been there for him through the worst days of his life. Bad grades, failed tests, devastating breakups; she had witnessed it all and her arm never left his shoulders. He had a few years on her, but her level of maturity seemed beyond her, and he adored her for that. 

[i’m sorry for snapping earlier i’ll call you when its over, k?]

His fingers flew over the keypad, sending the text as quick as he could as the shower dripped to a finish. He quickly shoved the phone into his pocket as the door creaked open, and Hanzo’s footsteps echoed down the short hall. 

“Do you happen to own a pair of extra sweatpants?” McCree turned his head and felt his mouth suddenly dry. Hanzo stood before him in his tattered red towel, hair dripped over his shoulder down his bare chest. A large tattoo took up his arm, connecting to his pec, chiseled and wet. Above the towel, a clear cut of abs and prominent Adonis belt. 

His eyes gradually worked up Hanzo’s body, to his face which was rapidly reddening by the second. “Uh yeah, I’ll go grab some for ya.” His hands fumbled as he heaved himself off the couch, averting his eyes to the floor as he moved past Hanzo. 

\--

He entered the living room with an old gray shirt and black sweatpants in hand, placing them next to Hanzo on the couch. He glanced up at Jesse with a smile, the corner of his amber eyes crinkling, revealing the smallest of dimples. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, draping the shirt over his torso, and quickly pulling the pants on underneath the towel. Jesse turned away as he changed, not wanting to further embarrass him. He turned his head back to face him, and couldn’t help but mask a grin. The shirt hung loosely over Hanzo’s body, used to the broader chest of and abdomen of McCree, while the drawstring of the pants were tied as tight as they could be. 

“Are they comfy?” 

Hanzo looked down at the material with a slight grin. “They are a little large.” 

A swelling hit Jesse’s chest and he couldn’t help but watch Hanzo examine the clothing, patches of wet skin soaking through the frayed fabric. McCree could feel his cheeks darkening, flustered at seeing the man soaking through his clothing. He fumbled for words, taking a step back from the couch, from Hanzo.  

“Anyway,” he began, “I reckon I should probably head off to bed. See ya in the mornin’?” 

 

* * *

 

 

Hanzo furrowed his brows, confusion prickling over his emotions. He only nodded at McCree,muttering a soft ‘goodnight’, unable to think of a proper reply. He watched him leave, bumping into a chair as he left. 

“Jesse?” The name had left his mouth before Hanzo had a moment to realize he had said it. There was a second of silence, before quiet steps trailed back down over the hardwood floor. Jesse turned around the corner, peering into the living room. 

“Yeah?”

Hanzo stood from his seat, hesitant at first, taking slow and soft steps towards him. Each step he took was in time with his heart, and he didn’t stop until the two stood an inch apart, Hanzo’s hand finding McCree’s, entangling their fingers as their eyes met. 

“I wanted to apologize,” he whispered, struggling to find the right words, “for my behaviour this evening. You can not possibly know how much this means to me. I realize I may come across as crude and ungrateful. I am aware of my abrupt changes and attitude shifts, and I hope that after this night it would be possible if I could see you again?” 

There was a look in that second--that one moment of silence between them--Jesse’s pupils dilated, his warm brown eyes caught in the glow of the television, and for just that moment Hanzo swore he saw a flicker of admiration. 

His hand was gripped tighter and Hanzo’s eyes widened in surprise, glancing up at McCree. His hair was disheveled, strands falling over his eyes and a smile which seemed to soften his entire face. “Nothin’ would make me happier.” 

Hanzo fought back a grin as Jesse’s thumb rolled over the back of his hand, gentle and soothing. “Promise?” The shorter man asked, fighting against a quiver of fear in the back of his throat. That damn fear--abandonment, rejection. The ghosts of his past haunting his present in a never-ending loop

“Of course, darlin’. Now how ‘bout I show ya the bedroom, and we both get a lil’ rest, huh?” Hanzo nodded and allowed himself to be lead down the hall, McCree’s hold loosening so his fingerprints could touch against Hanzo’s open palm, before curling their hands together once more. 

Jesse opened a door and flicked a switch with familiar ease. A warm light illuminated the room, bringing into view a worn double bed fitted with a patchwork quilt, and a painting of a an old farmhouse hanging over the bed. An oak closet sat in the corner, a small curtained window hanging beside it. The room was quaint and in a word, homily. 

“It ain’t much but it’s all I got. Lemme know if ya need anything.” They murmured a quiet goodnight to each other, gradually unravelling their hands before Hanzo closed the door behind him. 

He stood against the door in silence, basking in the room. Slowly, he made his way to the bed, pressing down on the plush mattress, immediately giving way under his pressure. He got up, laying underneath the quilt against soft pillows. He only closed his eyes for a second, relishing in the night and every touch they had shared. Every word they had spoken, and every moment of eye contact. He hadn’t even noticed he was falling asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! if you want more mchanzo trash you can visit my blog dragonsandcowboys.tumblr.com // i hope you guys enjoyed and updates should come weekly!


	6. Chapter 6

The air was rich with the familiar scent of flowers. Blossoms and violets--the smell of his home; the smell of Hanamura. Rose archways and loosely shingled rooftops with peaks that seemed to kiss the warm spring sky. 

He was in the field by the pavilion, underneath the trunk of the largest cherry tree. It had always been his favourite spot, quiet and isolated, the entire world seemingly beneath him. Discarded cherry blossoms littered the ground beneath him, a blanket of pink buds. The wind blew through his hair, whipping loose strands against his face and he couldn’t help but smile. 

There was a sudden laughter--a giggling, loud and bodacious. He turned around to see Genji sitting beside him, sun playing in his eyes and dancing on his hair. 

“Genji,” the name was a breath on his lips, almost unfamiliar. His brother turned to look at him, flashing a toothy grin. He was young--they both were, Hanzo realized as he felt down the long ponytail he had yet to cut. Genji’s hair was spiked and green, as he had worn it in those early and haunting years in Japan. 

There was a voice suddenly: a song on the wind calling their names. In mere seconds, Genji shot up like an arrow cutting through air. His eyes were wide and brewing with excitement, a few blossoms lodged in his hair. He gestured for Hanzo to follow him as he ducked beneath the pavilion bridge, dodging around corners with practiced ease. Entranced, Hanzo stood from the tranquility of the tree’s shade, following from a distance as he watched Genji run towards the main temple, scarf billowing behind him in the wind. 

“Slow down!” Hanzo called out to him, the words falling out in smooth Japanese hardly even realizing. 

And then he saw her. 

Standing in the archway, arms at her side, long black hair falling over her shoulders to her waist. Her chin was raised, as it always was, and her eyebrows were lifted in what Hanzo recognized as hidden joy. She was elegance embodied, half the city thought so. She wore only a simple sky blue Tsumugi, but with a regality native only to her. 

“Hanzo,” She greeted him with open arms as he approached and immediately fell into the touch. A light kiss grazed the top of his head and for a moment he allowed himself to bask in the arms of his mother, for a moment he was once again a child. He had almost forgotten the sanctuary his mother provided him, his brother grinning beside her. There were times Hanzo had been compared to their father, with a stern face and brow, hardly ever caught smiling. Genji however, standing next to their mother, looked almost identical. He had the same gentle eyes and the most beautiful smile. 

“My sons,” she murmured, pulling back from the hug so she could place a hand on both of their shoulders. “Both so handsome and proud, like your father. Come, let me take a photo of you.” She released them, the absence of her touch leaving a chill on Hanzo, and Genji instantly bounded off to the blossom trees. Hanzo went to follow, the giddiness of his brother painting a smile on his face, but was held back. He glanced behind him, at his mother now holding his arm. He turned to face her, his heart racing in his chest. 

“Hanzo,” she began, her voice barely audible. For a second, her eyes flickered over to Genji making sure he was out of hearing, before glancing back to Hanzo. “Please promise me you will take care of him. You are brothers, and soon you will be all the other has. Do you understand?” 

Hanzo only nodded, slowly at first and then faster wanting to be perfect for her. 

She smiled, warm and radiant. “Good. Let us go take that picture.” They walked together, steps in synchronicity. The wind was warm against his bare skin, and he closed his eyes, taking in his homeland. 

He walked over beside his brother, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. Genji was only a few years younger, but Hanzo already towered over him. Their mother pulled out the camera, when Genji turned to face him, tears in his eyes. 

“How could you?” He fought the words out, every breath a pain and suddenly all Hanzo could feel was wet. His eyes darted to his hand, hanging over Genji, gripping something in his fist. He pulled his hand away, eyes bugged as blood coated them in a thick paint. He looked down at Genji, blood spurting from his mouth caused from a large knife lodged in the centre of his spine. 

“No Genji!” His brother began to fall forward and Hanzo caught him in his arms, cradling him to his body. “Forgive me, forgive me.” He turned to his mother, desperate for help but she had vanished, and Genji’s body rapidly began to turn to ice, colour flushing from his face. Panic struck through Hanzo’s body, trying to figure out how to save him, until limpness washed over Genji’s body, his blood covering over Hanzo. 

\--

Hanzo awoke with a shock, Jesse’s shirt stuck with sweat to his body. His mind was spinning and his heart was racing, faster and faster until it hurt to breathe. His hand clutched against his chest, grasping the soaked material. 

He took a breath, attempting to collect his thoughts for only a moment. He swung his legs over the bed, basking in the dark silence of the room. The dim light of the moon glimmered behind the soft veil of curtains. The apartment was eerily quiet, not a sound to be heard. 

_ Water.  _ He moved to the door, opening it slowly as to ensure the creaks didn’t echo across the apartment. In the silence, the floorboards groaned under the sudden weight of his footsteps. His hand instinctively crept along the wall, following it along. 

He reached the kitchen, reaching for a cupboard and any glass he could grab, filling it quickly with water from the sink. 

“Thirsty?” The voice came from the living room and sent a strike of fear into Hanzo’s heart. He swivelled around, hands clutched around the glass. Jesse’s silhouette appeared on the couch, hair disheveled and whiskey in hand. 

For a second he was speechless, as if he had been caught doing something sinful. He placed the glass down on the counter and moved to sit beside the man, whose eyes were focused on the drink in hand. “No I...could not sleep.” 

“Nightmare?” Hanzo replied only with silence, staring down at his feet, mulling the word over in his head. Nightmare. He had never considered it as such. To him, the dreams were nothing more than twisted memories, contorting in his mind to visions of horror and pain. 

His eyes trailed up to meet McCree’s, gentle and welcoming. He wanted to confess, wanted to spill his heart out and cry into the arms of the man he had just met. Yet, he bit his tongue. “No. Just insomnia.” 

A chuckle spilled from Jesse’s mouth, and he moved down the couch until their thighs brushed against each other. The smell of alcohol was heavy on McCree’s breath, and Hanzo tried not to reveal any sign of disgust towards the stench. “C’mon sugar, ain’t no shame to it. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I got a wink of shut eye.” He took a swig of his whiskey, allowing his free hand to caress over Hanzo’s knee. The touch sent a jolt of surprise up Hanzo’s spine, but the warmth of the contact seemed to heat his whole body. “Tell ya what,” Jesse began, trailing his hand up Hanzo’s thigh in his drunken state. “I’ll tell ya mine, if ya tell me yours?” By now his fingers were feathers, his touches so gentle Hanzo had to bite back a moan, melting into the contact. 

“I would abide that,”

“Alright then,” he took one last gulp of the last bit of the drink decorating the bottom of his glass, placing the empty cup down on the coffee table in front of them. He leaned back, hand moving from Hanzo’s thigh to his hair, twirling a loose strand around his finger. “Mine always begin the same. There’s a woman callin’ out to me, wearin’ a dress white as snow. She’s callin’ across a field an’ I go to run towards her but ‘m pushed to the ground. There’s a force on me, a boot in my back. A crowd of men gather ‘round me, and for a second there’s quiet in the air. Then there’s this pain, this terrible, excruciating pain an’ ‘m screamin’ loud as I can as the pain digs up my shoulder. Then there’s nothin’. A blank sheet in my mind, nothin’ but white. An’ I open my eyes, an’ I realize they tore my arm off. Then I wake up,” a smile broke across his face and he shook his head with a soft laugh. “It’s the darndest thing. Sometimes I find myself lookin’ down making sure it’s still there. Silly, ain’t it? Aw well, your turn now darlin’.” 

For a moment, Hanzo only looked at him. He leaned back against the couch, angling himself towards McCree, unable to resist the finger now tugging gently at his hair. “It begins in Japan,” he whispered, choosing each succeeding word with care.  “Underneath our cherry blossoms. Genji is there and… our mother. She died when we were only boys. I remember she was so beautiful. She ushers us together for a photo, beneath the trees. I wrap my arm around him, but his back is wet, soaked. I look down and there is blood, pouring, _gushing_ out. My hand is wrapped around a knife, lodged into his back. He justs… looks at me, tears in his eyes, until he collapses in my arms.” Silence fell over them, blanketing over their thoughts and emotions, minds lost in the visions of their dreams. McCree’s hand fell back to Hanzo’s leg, squeezing his knee gently. 

* * *

 

A million thoughts seemed to pass through McCree’s mind. A million things to say to him as Hanzo’s head fell in his hands, tears choking in his throat. “Shit Han, that’s terrible.” He mentally kicked himself, angry that his words had failed him. He couldn’t imagine the pain he had been through and he longed to say the right thing, to let him know he was not alone. Something, anything. “‘M sorry.”

“There is nothing to apologize for.” There was something in Hanzo’s voice, distant and quiet. He looked over at Jesse, his gaze so sharp he swore Hanzo could see through him. “Do you mind if I accompany you?” Hanzo gestured to the table, and Jesse followed his attention to the bottle of whiskey, nearly half empty. 

“Of course, sugar.” McCree turned in place, pouring a quick glass with practiced ease. The amber liquid filled the glass in seconds, until it nearly brimmed the edges. He passed it over to Hanzo who gripped it tight to his chest. 

He raised the glass to his lips, taking only a sip before pulling back, disgust playing on his face and McCree couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “Don’ like it?"

“Too much bitterness in one drink. Hardly any flavour.” Hanzo’s lips curled and his nose wrinkled as he took a sniff of the liquid. 

“Yeah,” Jesse only smiled, unable to take his eyes off of him, “that’s whiskey for ya.” 

“It is… unpleasant.” He placed the glass back down on the table with a muted ‘clink’. His eyes drifted off and his hands subconsciously crossed over onto his thigh. McCree watched him with an unprecedented focus, leaning in close until their knees bumped together. He slumped against the couch, gazing up at Hanzo still sitting with high posture and legs pressed together. 

McCree’s arm slung over the back of the couch, eyes drifting shut as he gazed at Hanzo through the mess of disheveled brown curls. “What’re ya thinkin’ bout?” 

Hanzo’s eyes flickered over to meet his, sparking a racing pulse in only a second. He hesitated for a second, biting his lip before spilling the name from his lips,“Genji”.  The word hung in the silence like death, simple and concise. The second it had fallen out Hanzo resumed his off gaze, avoiding McCree’s pause to find the right words. 

“Tell me ‘bout him.” 

He turned back to face Jesse, thigh to thigh, and McCree had to fight the heat surging from within, begging to be released. 

Hanzo’s eyebrows creased together and vivid confusion spread across his face. “About Genji?” 

McCree only shrugged, “get it off your chest darlin’.” The corners of Hanzo’s lips twitched and a small smile broke over, biting his lip to conceal it. Jesse only watched, elated to see the words bring such giddiness to the man. 

Basking in the moment, he allowed his free hand to entangle with Hanzo’s, heat instantly spreading wherever their skin touched.  

“I miss him greatly. I miss his laugh above all, and his smile. There was such warmth about him, one that I had not realized I needed. I remember when we were young, we used to play for forever I used to spend hours underneath our largest cherry tree, and he would bother me to no end. I used to get so angry. He looked so much like our mother, the same crinkles in his eyes when he smiled, the same dimples.” He smiled, nostalgia painted on his face. “He had a kind heart, much more than me. More than anyone. But when we moved to America everything changed. I had spent my entire life groomed to succeed my father, and when he died Genji was left to his own accord. I loved him, I still do. I would do anything to see him return home safely. I ruined everything.” 

Hanzo fell back against the couch, eyes never leaving McCree’s. For a moment, Jesse sat in silence, watching loose strands of Hanzo’s hair fall over his eyes, desperately wanting to brush them out of his face. He knew what would happen if he did, however. Alcohol poisoned kisses, bodies brushing against each other, frantic for a touch of heat. Hands and legs locking in place, the darkness blinding them. 

Jesse sighed, leaning away from him. He didn’t want it to happen like this, a drunken stumble in the night. He had thought about kissing him more times than he could count, dreamt of their lips pressing together. 

“Ya can’t keep blamin’ yourself, Han. Shit happens, ya can’t do anythin’ t’change it. Best thing sometimes is t’just move on.” 

“Perhaps,” Hanzo said, quiet and distant. A second of silence split the air and he stood from the bed. “I should get some rest.” Another second passed, and a shade of red coloured over Hanzo’s cheek as he looked down at Jesse. “Do you mind… accompanying me?” 

Jesse could feel his eyes widen, surprise filling every inch of his body. Hanzo avoided his eyes, embarrassment flushing his cheeks. “Hanzo I…” 

“Forgive me, it was silly of me to ask.” 

“Yes,” 

Hanzo blinked, while McCree only grinned from his seat, placing his glass down on the table. He stood from the couch and wrapped an arm around Hanzo’s waist, pulling him in tight. Hanzo opened his mouth, words lodged in his throat. “No I did not… I meant…” 

Jesse grinned, beyond amused by Hanzo’s flustered face. “Darlin’, I know what ya meant. ‘M only messin’ with ya. I think we could both use some rest, huh?” There was something so deliciously cute about the way Hanzo’s eyes quickly flickered away before meeting Jesse’s once more, biting lightly on his bottom lip. 

They walked to the back of the apartment where Jesse’s room was, making their way slowly to the bed between soft shy smiles and quiet giggles. 

Jesse lay down on the far right side of the bed, allowing Hanzo to have his space on the left. He quickly flickered the light off on the lamp beside him, resting his arm underneath his pillow, curved to the edge of the bed. A minute of restlessness passed as both men tried to adjust their positioning, when an arm wrapped tightly around Jesse’s torso, holding onto him as if Hanzo would lose him were he to let go.  Hanzo’s legs following the curve of his. He could feel Hanzo’s hair against the nape of his neck, itchy yet comforting all at once. For the first time in months, Jesse’s eyes drifted into a deep slumber. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!! if you want more mchanzo trash you can visit my blog dragonsandcowboys.tumblr.com // i hope you guys enjoyed and updates should come weekly!


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